A New Beginning
by Spikefan77
Summary: The rebellion is over, much was gained but so much more was lost. Effie struggles to move on after imprisonment and torture at the hands of President Snow and seeks a new beginning in District 12
1. Starting Over

**AN:** I read a couple Hayffie fics awas became obsessed. This piece has been skipping around my head then languishing on my computer for a while, so I figured, what the hell? Hope you enjoy :) And don't forget to review (it only takes a minute and really makes my day.)

**DISCLAIMER: **I own nothing but the voices in my head ;)

* * *

Effie closed the door to her train compartment and pulled her pink wig off with a tired sigh. The rebellion was over, the tyrants vanquished and all was right with the new world. So why did she feel as if she was still at war? Or worse, still a prisoner? She had returned to the Capitol and, after months of _therapy_, had been encouraged to join Plutarch's Communication Ministry. Doctors and well meaning friends had all assured her that productive work was just what she needed to get over everything she had endured during her captivity.

Effie had to laugh at that. Communication, yeah right. Propaganda by any other name still stunk to high heaven. It was almost as if the rebellion had never happened in some ways. Now, instead of a "Victory Tour", exploiting the victors and promoting the games; Effie had the privilege of being one of many speakers on the "Freedom Tour." According to Plutrach, the tour was designed to highlight the rebuilding efforts as well as the benevolence of the new government toward former Capitol citizens. It wasn't evil, yet she still felt like a puppet.

As Effie stepped into the shower and started scrubbing the makeup off her face, her mind travelled along its usual path at the end of a long day. Katniss Everrdeen, Peeta Mellark... _him_. To the world they were saviors who had sacrificed much for the country. To her they were so much more... yet she was still unable to label what any of them meant to her. When she had been... detained, Snow's minions had tried to turn her against them with all kinds of lies and... other things. Yet, strangely enough her memories of _him_ had had the opposite effect. Those memories had been the only thing that kept her sane in the middle of the night when the real interrogation, and the screams, had started.

The train was scheduled to stop in District 11 tomorrow. District 12 was not on the tour because, according to the official press releases, "due to the scope of devastation and loss of life suffered by District 12, our brethren need more time to heal." Effie sighed again. Lies and propaganda. It was a well known fact, at least to the members of the Communication Ministry, that the 'freedom fighters' in District 12 were too broken to make good television personalities. The last time she had spoken with Hazelle, Katniss was still a silent recluse. Peeta was still having episodes and when it came to _him_... well apparently the more things changed, the more they stayed the same in District 12.

With the 'mask', as _he_ called it, off, Effie sat at the small dresser and forced herself to look in the mirror. She had become very adept at avoiding mirrors, quite a feat in the former Capitol where every two steps provided you with an opportunity to admire the work of art that was your body. However, at the end of the day, when she was away from the cameras and alone with her guilt and her ghosts, it was the last thing she did before bed.

The first thing she noticed about the woman in the mirror were the haunted eyes, blue as the skies but filled with sorrow and surrounded by circles so dark they looked like bruises. She picked up a brush with a hand that shook only slightly, and ruthlessly pulled it through ash blonde locks, relentlessly subduing every last curl. If not for those dark circles, no one would think she wasn't the same old Effie. They were the main reason Plutarch insisted that she continue to wear her makeup whenever she made public appearances. It wouldn't do for the 'Freedom Tour' to have too many reminders of the ugliness of war, not in Plutarch's beautiful new world anyway. Effie turned away from the mirror and came to a decision. She was done hiding. Starting tomorrow she was taking back her life.

* * *

Haymitch rolled over with a groan, automatically reached for his bottle and brought it to his lips. He growled angrily when he realized it was empty. Dammit! The nightmares must have been especially vivid last night if he didn't even leave a drop. He stumbled out of bed and cursed again when he went to the bathroom and found his emergency stash gone. His search of the kitchen yielded... nothing but more empty bottles. The living room... the same. Then it hit him. Thursday. It was goddamn Thursday! Otherwise known as Thirsty Thursday because that was his restocking day.

He collapsed on the couch with another groan. Usually he would have at least one bottle left to hold him until he could get to the Hob but, lately, the intensity of his nightmares had increased. He found himself drinking more just to get through the nights. Not that the liquor stopped the nightmares, but at least he didn't remember them in the morning. Haymitch knew he could have leaned on Peeta and Katniss for support, but he chose not to. They had enough on their respective plates without adding a heaping helping of his bullshit too. With a sigh he staggered to his feet and headed back to the bathroom. Might as well take a shower to pass the time before he headed over to the new Hob.

* * *

Effie watched the train leave the station with mixed emotions. There was a great deal of fear. She hadn't told anyone she was coming. She had no idea where she would be staying and she only had enough clothes for a week at most. But more than fear, there was an overwhelming sense of relief. There would be no more smiling for the crowds, parroting platitudes that Plutarch kindly wrote for her... and no more masks. With a slight smile she stepped off the platform and started pulling her one piece of luggage behind her.

About half an hour later Effie found herself in the Victor's Village. She could tell which house was his by the state of disrepair. The garden, if it could even be called that, was unkempt and wild; not unlike its' owner. The fence was sagging and broken and Effie tripped over broken cobblestones as she walked down the path. The stench wafting from behind the open door almost knocked her out. She paused, rethinking her decision. Was this really what she wanted? On a good day she and Haymitch had fought like cats and dogs. He was a filthy, unrepentant, surly drunk... who for some reason had been her lifeline during her captivity. Effie squared her shoulders and stepped inside.

The first thing she did, after gagging on the stench and tripping _again_, was to find the kitchen and wipe all the makeup off her face. She pulled off her wig, stuffed it into her bag and pulled out her planner. Then she pulled her hair into an unruly bun, pushed some debris off a chair and took a seat.

"Now, where do I begin?"

* * *

It was after dark when Haymitch staggered up to his house, holding his remaining bottles securely. He had been the first one at the Hob and had purchased everything his liquor contact had to offer. Unfortunately, that was only six bottles. As much as he hated anything to do with the former Capitol, Haymitch was beginning to think he would have to start dealing with the city since he was drinking more than he could buy at home.

After he had secured his supply for the week, Haymitch had spent the rest of the day in the field with his geese. He had already consumed two of his precious six bottles so he would have to be more careful...maybe ration himself.

The moment Haymitch stepped into the hall, he realized that something was amiss. Not that he often noticed the odors of his home, but he was pretty sure it didn't usually smell of pine. He paused, carefully placed his wine on the couch and looked around.

"Dammit!"

The kid had done it again! As soon as he could see straight he was going to go over there and give Peeta a piece of his mind. He didn't know how the kid was able to get over his own issues when he spent 99% of his time looking after Haymitch and Katniss. No matter how many times he told the kid to leave his house the way it was, he would inevitably come home to a clean home. He stumbled up the stairs, promising to deal with Peeta in the morning. Haymitch barely managed to kick off his boots before tumbling into bed... and falling on a slight, warm body.


	2. Wake Up, Sweetheart

**AN: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited or alerted. Special thanks to Clara Meliza, Gdreams, allonsysilvertongue, ShadowAbsol13 and ieatmenlikeair for taking the time to review. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

**DISCLAIMER: **Still don't own ;)

* * *

Haymitch grabbed the knife he kept in his boot as he rolled away from the intruder and got to his feet in one smooth move that belied his inebriation. Then he froze.

"_Effie_?! By all that's holy... What the hell are you doing here? Why the hell are you in my _bed_!? God I'm not drunk enough for this."

Effie had managed, just barely, not to scream when Haymitch had fallen on her. Now she pulled the blanket up to her neck as she got to her knees and glared at him.

"Really, Haymitch, clearly you are still lacking in manners. This is hardly the way to wake a lady."

Haymitch had backed up almost to the doorway and was about to escape and lose himself in one of his precious few remaining bottles, but Effie's words halted him. He took a step forward and raked her body from head to toe with a lascivious sneer.

"You're right Effie. It's just that the type of lady who crawls into a man's bed uninvited usually doesn't need to be awakened. Is that what you're doing for the new Capitol now? Are you some kind of war hero reward? Because I think I would have preferred a case of..."

The punch that caught him on the left cheek took him by surprise. When Effie had gasped and gotten out of the bed in an obvious fury, Haymitch had expected her to lecture him on how a guest should be treated or what was considered proper conversation in mixed company. He had actually been amused by Effie's diminutive stature as she stalked toward him without her mile high heels. That amusement had vanished swiftly in the wake of her attack. Haymitch would never have dreamed that prissy, little Capitol princess Effie Trinket would hit him hard enough to drop him like a bad habit.

As he looked up at her from the floor he thought he saw stars. Then her bare foot kicked him in the side.

"You're a loathsome _pig_, Haymitch Abernathy! I don't know why I thought you could be anything even approaching human! I hope you burn in hell you depraved, drunk..._bully_!"

She aimed another kick at his side, yelped in pain when it connected harder than she expected, then limped around the room, muttering to herself. She grabbed a suitcase threw a couple things in it and hobbled from the room, still murmuring angrily to herself. Haymitch got to his feet slowly, gingerly holding his face and wondering if this was some kind of liquor induced nightmare. When he heard the door slam he cursed.

Effie didn't care that she was only wearing a short nightgown and a sheet as she strode toward the train station. It had been a mistake coming here. A huge mistake. She had hoped that District 12 could be a safe harbor in the storm that her life had become, but Haymitch Abernathy clearly had no interest in being a savior to her. Forget savior, the man could barely be classified as a homo sapien! To even suggest that she was there to provide for his degenerate needs... If it wasn't so late she would have screamed.

At the train station Effie took a seat on the empty platform and contemplated her next move. She couldn't go back to the Capitol... There she was surrounded by death and loss everywhere she turned. The unrelenting memories were the main reason her doctors had advised her to join the Victory Tour, and at the time she would have agreed to a tour of hell if it got her out of the city.

Turning to Katniss and Peeta was out of the question. Like her, they were still trying to rebuild the wreckage of their lives. It wouldn't be fair to burden them with her...issues. That left her with... No one to turn to and nowhere to go. Effie shivered and pulled the sheet closer around shoulders, fighting back tears of despair.

* * *

It had taken Haymitch a little while to figure out where Effie had gone. Who would have thought she would make a run for it in the middle of the night? He had expected to find her barricaded in one of the rooms, holding his liquor hostage, until he relented and agreed to let her stay. He would have grumbled and yelled but eventually given in, how could he not?

However, after ten minutes of fruitlessly searching every room in his house, he realized Effie was gone. He also realized that was more upsetting to him than finding her in his bed. Twenty minutes later he found her curled up on a bench at the train station, wrapped in his sheet and shivering in the cold night air. With a sigh he walked over and stood before her.

"Come on, Eff, enough of this hide and seek, let's go home."

She looked up at him with huge blue eyes, full of desperation and brimming with tears that she refused to shed.

"Home? I have no home, Haymitch, and you've made it abundantly clear that I am not welcome in yours."

Haymitch felt his heart break. This was not the Effie he knew. This was not the Effie he had seen on television in the last few months, parading through the districts on Plutarch's Propaganda Tour. Yes, unbeknown to everyone, he had kept track of her. It had relieved some of the guilt when he saw her prattling on about the rebuilding efforts and the many plans to unify the Districts. She had seemed so much like herself that he had ignored the tiny voice in the back of his mind questioning why the smile on her lips never quite seemed to reach her eyes. In the moments when the voice got too loud to be ignored he just drank it into silence. The alternative was to deal with the reality, and the ensuing guilt that he had failed her. He realized now that he had been a selfish fool.

Without a word he picked her up and, cradling her against his chest, started walking back to his house. It seemed as if the fight had gone out of her completely. She didn't struggle, she didn't ask about the luggage he left on the bench and she didn't argue... that worried him more than anything else.

When they got back to the house he took her into the bathroom, seated her on the closed toilet and quickly washed her bare feet. She never said a word. When he was done he took her back to his room and carefully tucked her in, unsurprised when she immediately drifted off into a restless sleep. With a sigh he took a seat in the uncomfortable chair and resolved to watch over her. If nothing else, he owed her that much.


End file.
